


On the Safest Ledge

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cameos from everyone, College Professor Jean Kirstein, College Student Eren Yeager, M for later chapters ayyy, M/M, eren is blind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if the start of the semester wasn't enough to throw him off balance, Jean finds himself dealing with a new student of his that he can't stop thinking about. Not for lack of trying. </p><p>Alternatively, you don't need to see to know when your professor is an attractive loser. Eren flirts accordingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Safest Ledge

**Author's Note:**

> just for the record, eren is of age and jean is in his late 20s. thank you to [tap](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tap) for being my beta! now that i'm actually posting this i'm not sure what to say ahaha. i tried to keep this about the characters and their interactions as much as possible rather than just focusing on disabilities, so i hope it reads as such. comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! if you have any questions, feel free to ask here or at my [tumblr](http://rivaille.me), whichever is easier for you.

It's five past the hour when Jean finally makes his way into the room, dropping his satchel on the desk and shaking his wet coat off his shoulders. 

"Sorry guys!" he says, turning towards the whiteboard. 

The classroom's a bustle of sound; squeaky shoes against the floor and people still getting settled let Jean know that he isn't the only one who's late, at least, and he starts to write out his name in large, scrawling letters on the white board. He hears a familiar voice call out. 

“God, Jean. You had the nerve to stand us up the first day of class and had Marco come in twenty minutes after to tell us you weren't gonna show, and now you're literally late with Starbucks? What sort of professor are you?" 

There's muffled laughing before Jean snaps back, “Hey! I'll have you know this isn't Starbucks!"

“Overthrow the power hungry dictator for the good of the people!" Sasha says as she steps onto her chair, one fist shaking in the air, and the class finally bubbles over as she starts quoting lines from V for Vendetta.

It takes a while for the class to settle down, and to be fair Jean is laughing, too. It gives him some time to actually shake the raindrops out of his hair and catch his breath from running up the stairs to the classroom. It's one of the smaller classrooms in the English department, long tables and chairs right next to each other instead of an auditorium styled lecture hall. He prefers it considerably to the packed house that his late afternoon freshman English courses turn into, all of the students pilled in and none of them really listening. 

Which might be why Jean doesn't mind the teasing as he marks Connie's name off the attendance list he's printed out, taking a look down it and across the room. Twenty four students, and it's full of the usual suspects. They’re the types that would get decent marks without even trying in his basic courses, so seeing them take his advanced classes is a relief, given that he’s only been doing this teaching thing so long. Seeing students sign up for another class of his after having him before is always a pick me up—even if it leads them to being this comfortable. 

“All right, all right," he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Can we postpone your coup d'etat until at least right before finals? If you do I might let you drop your lowest exam grade." 

This, at least, gets the class's attention, and Jean raises an eyebrow triumphantly, his chest sticking out just a bit as he walks towards the whiteboard. 

He feels the corners of his mouth go down as he starts to think, putting his hand behind his neck as he stretches his arm out. For a moment Jean looks out to the class and tries to get a feel for it and all the people sitting in front of him. This is going to be their life for the next few months, or at least Monday and Wednesday mornings. 

Jean tries his best to smile, but it just makes his glasses fall a bit further down his nose. “Alright! Now that the uprising is taken care of, welcome to English 325, The Art of Fiction. I'm your professor, Jean Kirschtein. Most of you already know me, but for those of you that are new, you are free to call me what you're comfortable with, just respect me. So, you can call me professor, Kirschtein, Jean, Professor Kirschtein, whichever. Just, don't call me Professor Jean because that's really fucking weird.” 

He’s using his hands, practiced since this is the fourth time he’s gone over introductions. “I also will also curse in my class. If this makes you uncomfortable, then I’m sorry that you are uncomfortable. I will not do so in excess, but if you are uncomfortable to the point that you can no longer take this class, please let me know and I will sign a drop form, no hard feelings." 

There's a faint whisper of, “Told you he'd be better than Dawk," from the group of students, then, and he smirks when he hears someone reply too loudly with, “Fuck, I think a wall would be better than Dawk."

Jean snorts without meaning to, bringing his face to the crook of his arm and he sees a student he doesn't know look at him in alarm - probably worried that he'd get upset at him since he'd heard him. Jean looks at him once over, renames him, ‘Beanie' for the hat on top of his head, meets Beanie's eyes and shakes his own head. 

“I’m sorry," Jean says, and for some reason Beanie's face doesn't doesn’t relax properly itself properly from it's _oh shit_ , position, but Jean figures Beanie will eventually be fine. Most of his students loosen up after a class or two, anyway. 

He tosses the syllabi at the students, three to a table and lets them grab it, before getting a copy himself and moving back to the front of the room, being sure to smack the back of Connie's head before he does. Thankfully, all he gets in return is, “You suck."

“My name's spelled correctly at the top of the paper. It's also spelled correctly on the board. Try to spell it correctly when you turn in your essays, guys. This is the normal stuff, first page, you might want to read the blurb I put here about the class if your counselor just signed you up for it, but we'll be talking about it in just a little bit. I assume you know which room you are in." Here, the students laugh, before he turns the page, trying to get through these parts as quickly as possible. “The disability statement's there too if any of you want to read it. Now let's talk about my office hours and correct usage that cell phone number I have printed there. You _cannot_ call me in the middle of the night if your drunk ass needs a ride home, and yes, this has happened…”

It's only when he's about seventy five percent done with the paper, thank god, he hates going through this repetitive stuff, when he notices that Beanie is actually flirting with the kid sitting next to him - He-Man? Coconut? Maybe he doesn't even _deserve_ a Jean Kirschtein nickname because Jean is very upset right now. 

(Jean had once told Marco about his habit of giving people nicknames in his head. Marco had told him that his would be Grumpy. He was angry for the rest of the day at how infuriatingly accurate it was, but still went out to drink with Freckles, hearing him complain about his own students and frowning some more into his beer.)

“Hey, sorry I never finished the attendance. I'll need to do it before class is over. You. Kid that's talking. What's your name?" he asks, and he tries, oh how he tries. He tries to not sound too terribly agitated and let his eyebrows knit together as he goes to his desk, pulling his sheet up and pen. His coffee helps soothe his anger a bit, and part of him knows that any grumpiness he does feel is because of other reasons, and not because of his student. 

The kid still looks terrified. "Armin," Coconut responds. "Armin Arlert." And Jean ticks it off the list, before calling out the few other names that he hasn't already marked as present. When he calls out, "Eren," Beanie replies, looking at Jean and frowning just a little bit. 

Once Jean is done he puts his paper down and picks the syllabus back up, and then looks at Armin and Eren for a moment. “I know going over the syllabus is boring, but-"

“That isn't it," Eren says, and when he speaks it isn't in the same meek tone that Armin had been using. He's just _staring_ and Jean is getting a prickling feeling at the back of his neck, almost wants to tell him to stop looking at him like that, it's sort of embarrassing, but lets his own eyes falter down and chooses to look up from then on only from under his lashes, not meeting the kid's gaze. 

“Fine. Okay," Jean huffs. And he isn't sure why he suddenly feels like he's on the defensive. The whole class is staring at them, almost like they're expecting Jean to get angry or back off, so he does the latter, finishing off with, “I’m almost done. Five minutes and we're all outta here, _if_ you let me finish without interrupting." 

“Sweet!" Connie says loudly, and Jean turns around, taking his glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose. He finds himself leaning on the desk in the middle of the room and looking away from the two of them before he gets ready to start reading again. 

He's surprised when he hears Eren ask, “Since we're getting out early, does that mean your office hours start or are you going to make me sit in the hallway or something?" 

"Eren," Armin says, in a tone that sounds strikingly familiar to Marco's with him. 

Jean looks back to Eren, Beanie, sees him sitting there with his syllabus already put away and what looks like a silver pencil holder sitting on the center of his desk. He reminds Jean of himself, and the thought probably was what sent the warning sparks on the back of his neck, warm and very _there_ so you'd know that that feeling wasn't something to be shook off. Everything from how he sits, his arms on the desk like he's making it his own, to the way he's looking at Jean and smirking, challenging him. It all screams _just like the insufferable brat you were during college_ to Jean, and Jean sighs. And hopes that he was at least polite to his professors, and hopefully Jaeger will do the same. 

“Sure, now let me finish, Hunter," he replies, annoyed. He can't say he isn't still a brat.

Eren just fucking grins. "Jaeger."

“Whatever."

 

By the time the class is making their way out, Jean gets his things together and looks to Eren and Armin, previously Beanie and Coconut. He's going to miss those nicknames. They were good nicknames. Jean lets his neck roll as he places his bag strap on his shoulder, before saying, “Do you know where my office is? 311, third floor. I need to pick up a few papers from my department head. I'll try to make it quick, he always tries to talk my head off." 

Eren looks at Armin, who just says, “I’ll walk you there. I have a lab in fifteen so you'll have to make it back by yourself unless Mikasa's done already, sorry."

“Don't apologize, dude. I'll just use my cane. Both of you worry too much.” Eren waves in Jean's general direction, as he puts his arm around Armin's, walking beside him and out of the classroom. “Don't keep me waiting too long, Professor Jean."

“Just call me Jean!" he hisses, and hears Eren laugh down the hallway as he looks at the two of them, and pauses for a second. Instead of anything else, Jean shakes his head and walks down the hallway.

Erwin's office is a place that he never likes to stay in for too long. As Jean knocks on the door and hears a muffled, “Come in," he moves quickly forward, ignoring Levi's glare from his spot at his desk, where he's cleaning a pair of scissors in a way that seems really fucking unnecessary and very threatening.

If he'd done something concrete that he could apologize for, he would, but for some reason Jean _knows_ that Levi just dislikes him immensely. Petra had once said to not take any offense to this, as Levi disliked anyone that took up Smith's time - his job as his secretary - but one time when Jean was at the office with Petra, she'd actually giggled and whispered, “You were right, he does hate you.” It's only one of the reasons why Jean stays away from the office, though. Erwin makes him feel on edge, he can't exactly place why.

Thankfully, once he's through the door, it's just Jean and Erwin, shielded from the arctic tundra that is his secretary’s glare. 

“Sit down, sit down," Erwin says kindly, smiling in a way that Jean swears reaches all the way to his very impressive eyebrows. 

Jean just shakes his head, smiling back and feeling very much like he had back in school when he'd been called to the principal’s office. “Sorry, sir. I have a student waiting for me at my office. I would've given them the key, but today's my first day meeting them, don't know if they're an axe murderer yet," Jean says pleasantly. 

“You always have been a cautious one," Erwin says with a chuckle. He grabs the papers he'd wanted to give to Jean, and leafs through them. “I’m also sorry to hear about your dissertation problems."

Jean just lets out a short laugh, and tries not to let his eyes bulge out completely. Leave it to Erwin Smith to label that complete _disaster_ as diplomatically as a 'problem'. Even past the point of wondering where he’s heard it from, Jean is impressed with how he’s brought it up in such a delicate way. Jean had been this close to finally finishing the whole mess of presenting his dissertation to his committee and getting his doctorates, years of work and nights spent wanting to claw his own eyes out, when his dissertation committee chair had died of a heart attack. After all of that Jean still had to go and find a replacement for him, and new committee members as well, along with the fact that he had been good friends with the guy. It'd be easier if he’d hated him, probably. Now Jean was nothing but jokes about how he’d screen for health issues when he finally did get his shit together and start the process up again. Jean lets himself take a breath, staring at the small metal plate with _Dr._ before Erwin's name that’s at the front of his desk, and then looks back up at him, and smiles, like he hadn't wanted to bash his own head against the wall just a moment ago. 

“It's fine. I'll work it out soon enough, I’m just trying to get things settled down with the start of the semester first, you know how it is,” he says, taking the papers and looking through them. It isn't anything that important, so he politely puts them in the manilla envelope he already had prepared before coming to the office and almost makes a quick get away.

“That reminds me," Erwin says, pulling out a small list he's written for himself and tapping it with his finger. “You have the transfer student that's blind, don't you? It's been a while since we've had one at this campus, but I believe he's already had in length talks with the Disability Office and gone around and talked to his professors the first week. It isn't as though we have reading rooms, but wherever you can help him in addition to the help that the office is already giving him would be great. I spoke to him already and it seems like he has a good head on his shou-"

While Erwin is saying this, Jean is barely comprehending. All of what Erwin's saying _does_ make sense and at the same time it doesn't make sense. He was absent Thursday, his mother had been hospitalized overnight because she'd fallen and he’d needed to stay during the morning to talk to her doctors. For every other class, Jean had been there for the first day, and the class he'd just given had been the last of them.

It takes a few moments, and then he remembers Eren holding onto someone’s arm. He'd thought the motion was strange at the time. If he'd been right in his initial assessment of Eren, that the two of them were similar enough, then yeah, even if he and Armin had been banging ten ways to Sunday there still was no way he'd grab onto Armin's arm. And he'd said something about a cane, and Jean's throat feels a bit hot, but he asks anyway, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. 

“What's his name?" Jean blurts out, before he can stop himself.

Erwin looks at him for a second too long, before replying. "Eren Jaeger. He should be in your Art of Fiction class, unless I wrote it down wrong."

“No, you're right. Sorry, I haven't slept well. He'll do well in my class, I’m sure.” Jean swallows, taking a step back, edging out of the office, before continuing, “But I know exactly what you're saying, and I’ll be sure to keep an eye on the situation throughout the semester and see if there's anything I can do for him. I’m sorry to run out on you, but I have to go see my student." 

When Jean walks out of the room, he says goodbye and hopes he's enough of an adult that he's learned to lie better than he was when he was a teenager and his mother always seemed to catch him with his pants pulled down. Levi has moved on from cleaning the scissors to polishing an open stapler, his eyes trained on Jean as he skids out of the office, and Jean swears he hears a hiss. 

It's the lesser of two evils, he figures. Jean still feels like a shit human being for not fucking _realizing_ that Eren was blind all along, but at least Eren isn't his boss, who he didn’t exactly lie to just now, technically. 

He's looking for anything to calm himself down as he stabs at the elevator button repeatedly, willing it to come faster, checking his wristwatch and thinking about how much time he spent in the office, how much time he's been a fucking _idiot_ , and were those braille dots always on the elevator sign? Neat and orderly, each of them screaming at Jean to pay attention, you moron. He starts laughing enough to get some stares from some passing students, but thankfully his outburst is interrupted by the elevator's ding letting him know it was there. 

Once he's alone again, thankfully no one else gets on, he takes a breath and tries to think. He tells himself not to think about his ex-girlfriend who had left him a string of angry voicemails that morning, or his the way his doctorates had just vanished from his grasp, or his mother's deteriorating health, because adding negative things to the situation will make it all the more worse. The reason why he feels so horrible, probably, is because he hadn't noticed. The first day of class was cancelled, his emails put on hold, he'd been late to class, there hadn't been much of a _chance_ , really, for him and Eren to meet before this. He understands now why Eren had asked to meet him after class. Jean hadn't said anything particularly rude, except maybe chiding Eren and Armin and they had been talking. At least he doesn't think so.

He's at his floor and his breathing is normal again. Worst case scenario planning mostly done, he's going to have to deal with what actually happens now. He cracks his fingers one by one and he turns the corner and walks down the hall. 

When he sees Eren with his arms crossed, hands tucked into his sweatshirt and nodding along to his earbuds, eyes closed, he waves to get his attention. It's only a fraction of a second after he starts the motion that he feels the heat burst in his chest, and pulls his hand down, quickly, and coughs. Once Jean’s close enough, he pokes at Eren's arm, keeping his distance, glad that he doesn't jump or scare easily, just takes off the headphones, and busies himself with putting them in his backpack.

“Yo," Eren says, and there isn't much of a question behind it. Jean wonders how that's even possible. “Better be Professor Jean or I’m gonna start yelling for him at the top of my lungs."

In spite of himself, Jean lets out a short and surprised laugh. “You would, wouldn't you?"

“I always try to mean what I say," Eren says, and for some reason Jean finds it endearing when Eren grins as he says that, head tilted just a little bit.

He keeps his eyes on Eren as he opens the door to his office, keys uncooperative at first until he uses force. Jean is glad for the sudden lack of door underneath his shoulder because it suddenly brings the fact to his attention that he is very much _staring_ at his student, and even if the student can't see him staring and his cheeks now warming at this knowledge, that doesn't mean he wasn't.

“Here's the chair," Jean says, and then stops dead in his tracks before thinking back to a class he once took, and grabs Eren's arm where Armin had been holding it. He cringes a little bit, thinking about touching and how Hanji had gotten yelled at by Levi multiple occasions for hugging her students too much, but once he puts Eren's hand on the back of the chair, proper procedure for blind assistance, he lets go. Jean walks around him and to his own spot behind the desk. “Sorry, the room's sort of cramped. There shouldn't be crap for you to trip on or anything. At least, I think? Don't quote me."

“Ohh," Eren says with understanding, as he plops down on the chair comfortably and wiggles in, letting his backpack fall to the ground beside him. “I thought you didn't know. My bad.” Eren’s finger is pointed to his temple like a gun, and Jean wonders if the reason why it seems like he’s staring is because anyone else would’ve broken eye contact already. There are times when his eyelids flutter, heavy, lashes long. 

“About you being blind? If I’m being honest, I didn't. I just went to Dr. Smith's office and he told me, I wouldn't have known otherwise."

“Are you serious?" Eren says, his eyes comically wide. 

Jean does allow himself to look this time, size him up, in the privacy of his own office. Because Eren's there and one thing he's noticed since he called the kid ‘Beanie' in his own head, was that he was filled with facial expressions. Eyebrow curved up, pouty lips, wide sweeping gestures. Back when he'd been in boarding school, there'd been a boy that had been blind in a grade below his and all Jean remembers of him is that it was like he was a watercolor painting, all subtlety and softness. If Eren were measured by the same cloth, he'd be a Van Gogh. Nothing but bold lines and striking colors, surprising you in their beauty for where they came from. 

And maybe Jean doesn't even let himself think all of this, at least in words. But he looks at Eren. Everything from his brightly colored eyes that aren't actually _seeing_ Jean, to the stupid beanie covering his dark brown hair and his sweatshirt that says 'crazy cat lady', a picture of a cat with glasses underneath it, to the way the corners of his mouth turn up just so right before he laughs, it lighting up his whole face, only echoing the warmth of his tan skin and the disappearing splatter of summer freckles on the bridge of his nose. When he laughs it isn't in a malicious way, either. Jean knows this because he can hear that he means it, and there's that feeling that's hot and prickly at the base of Jean’s neck, reminding him that _this is important_ , as his chest aches a bit. 

He tries to push whatever his body is fucking even doing to the side. He really _didn't_ sleep well last night. 

“No shit? Like you're not just saying that to make me feel better?" Eren asks, wiping away a tear, his head still crooked. 

Jean leans forward, scowling. “How would me feeling like shit for not noticing make you feel better?" he asks, hissing. “Never mind. Sorry, cursing. Had a student say something about it." Eren waves, and Jean nods, before remembering and furrowing his brow. He sighs a bit, and looks at Eren, before settling on resting his chin on his hands as he puts his elbows on the desk. “I apologize for not realizing sooner. If you're happy I didn't, well. Be happy. " he coughs. 

“I sort of am. Happy, you know? That you didn't notice. You know the disability statement?" Eren asks easily, rhetorically, his hand playing with a strand of his own hair and Jean's eyes get caught in the motion before he replies with a grunt in the affirmative. “So, like. I could've raised my hand and made a big fuss about how you didn't read the whole thing out. Or how when you were all, _This is how you spell my name!_ and smacked the board I couldn't see it, you know?"

Jean feels three inches tall. He wants Eren to stop talking, unfortunately, Eren doesn't stop talking.

“Someone once told me that the statement was on there to normalize the whole deal. Like, yeah it's on there for pricks that don't want to help disabled people, and to make sure people don't get sued," Eren lets go of his hair, and decides to pull one of his legs up, bending the knee and bringing it close to his chest while he's sitting in the chair. “But it's also there to normalize the whole process. Like, it's on the syllabus to make it part of the class, just another part of the course. It's not something that needs a spotlight on it, all this attention. I didn't need to yell out that I needed help at that moment, and I knew I could talk to you after, you seemed like a cool dude. So yeah, I’m happy."

“Oh," is all Jean can say in response. “That's. You seem very mature about all of this."

Eren just laughs. “I don't know about that."

 

They talk over how they're going to go about the class, and it isn't uncomfortable for more than a second. Or at least, when it is they both curse or say something stupid and Eren laughs eventually and Jean scowls as he pushes up his glasses, like the old man he is, and the conversation gets back on track, the two of them smiling somehow. Jean credits it to Eren being very easy to talk to, and wonders if he went to private or public school, if he was constantly around kids growing up, or if the two of them really are as similar as Jean had thought. He also wonders when he lost his eyesight or if he was born that way, but that isn’t really something you should as ask. 

Eren gets most of his textbooks transcribed in braille when possible, since he prefers seeing the grammar written down, but since Jean's class consists of short stories that are from books that Eren isn't quite he can find easily through the National Library Service, he's going to have to try to find e-books or audio versions, or use a reader when he can't. Classes are mostly open forum but for the few times that Jean does lecture, he'll let Eren bring in a recorder so he can re-listen to everything and transcribe his notes into braille later. As for tests, they'll be taken beforehand and on a computer in the lab where a refreshable braille display can be attached, and Eren can type answers. Somewhere in between it all Eren mentions that it’d be nice if Jean starts describing whatever he’s pointing to, so Armin doesn’t have to and then get called out for talking during class. When Jean gets flustered and apologizes profusely he laughs, and says he was just trying to make him squirm a bit, and that it’s okay. It’s just that Armin’s always been there for him, and is used to trying to help Eren to the point of being overbearing. 

When Eren pulls out something silver and recognizable, Jean asks, because he's already familiar enough with Eren to be dumb enough to ask. He's also Eren's professor, so he's authoritative enough to feel like he deserves an answer when he asks a question. Eren doesn't mind, either way, just says he's taking a quick note about what they're talking about as he pokes a hole through what he calls a slate. When he's done, he pulls the paper out, and explains that he has to poke the holes backwards, so that once it's done, he'll be able to read it the right way. With a shrug of his shoulders he compares it to a pencil and paper for notes, and that he doesn't always want to be talking into his phone. 

By his bookcase now, Jean is close enough to lean behind Eren and listen to him explain in detail and watch him work, his fingers moving deftly. Eren grins over his shoulder, before grabbing for Jean's wrist, fingers dragging across the skin until they reach Jean's, and then pressing both of their fingers to the braille cells he'd punched through during the class. 

“This is your name," he says, his index finger on top of Jean's. “You were sort of a jerk and told us to spell it right, Professor Jean. Had to write it down to make sure I didn't mess up. Can't exactly take an iPhone audio memo during class."

Jean feels his face grow hot, and he wants to pull his hand away, but he doesn't, because then Eren is saying each letter as he moves their fingers to the next braille cell, starting with the _J_ , and taking his time, so Jean can see that there is a difference, even if it seems minute and incomprehensible to him. 

Once Eren is done, he lets go, and Jean is thankful because he doesn't need his heartbeat or anything, but it's sort of nice to have it. After a moment, he looks at Eren and when he moves his face in front of Eren's face, Eren scrunches up his nose. 

"What are you doing?" Eren asks, scratching his nose and putting away his slate and paper.

Jean immediately moves back, and says, “Nothing!" he stops thinking that maybe Eren _can_ see and is playing an extensively elaborate prank on him, is also making his chest do fucking weird things, and was maybe hired by his ex-girlfriend in some revenge plot to make Jean fall in love with him only to break his heart publicly and have him fired for inappropriate relations with a student, and end up on the street, homeless, and his girlfriend would get his dog. Because that would be dumb. Really dumb, considering he can’t even _begin_ to let himself even _think_ that way about Eren, negative outlook be damned. So he erases all of it from his mind, because it’s really stupid. He sighs a bit, and stretches out, grabbing for the CDs he was looking for before tossing them to Eren. 

“Shit, sorry," Jean says, wincing as they literally smack him in the face. “I am so sorry, fuck." 

“That was rude, I think you owe me a reparations for pain and suffering," Eren says, sticking his tongue out and Jean sees a hint of metal, maybe? Before it's gone. There’s a throaty chuckle before he says, “Stop saying sorry all the time, sir. Maybe just hand it to me next time, though? But thanks! I can't believe you still have stuff from the 90s, I couldn't even torrent this if I wanted to. I'll bring them back after I rip them. If you have any other rare audiobooks treasures in your den of learning please gimme." 

“Only if you never call it that again," Jean says with a growl swatting at Eren's head and only managing to unsettle his beanie just a bit, and he manages to laugh when Eren does. 

Jean’s glad. He’s glad that they'd had the meeting and that Eren has gone from being ‘Beanie' to someone he's comfortable enough with to swat without fear of being sued. At least he hopes. Jean's still a bit weary and unsteady on his own two feet because of a million and one different reasons, but he’s starting to feel better. 

Earlier, when they had been talking about testing options and how Eren had transferred to this campus from the main one along with his sister and best friend, something about her training more hours, Eren had told him that all the students he knew here had suggested he sign up for Jean's courses when possible. It might have been a small thing, especially when Jean spends his life counting the minuses stacking up rather than looking at the positives, but it mattered all the same. 

“Thanks, for showing me my name," he says, a beat too late and even Eren notices, before picking up the paper, and holding up one finger, telling him to wait, and pulling out his slate and stylus.

Jean wants to say something else, like he's sure that they'll have a good semester together, or that he's already pretty stoked that Eren's part of his class considering that he seems like a bright kid and knows his shit. And Jean has already said as much while they were speaking about the accommodations, that Erwin said he was happy to have Eren at their campus and if there was anything they could do, they'd try to help him out. Eren had just waved his hand, like it was nothing. 

After a couple moments Eren says, "Done!" and opens up the slate with a satisfied look. He hands the paper to Jean and adds, "I already memorized your name, Kirschtein. Keep it.”

“What'd you add to it?" Jean asks, feeling at the new dots and closing his own eyes. Eren had written _Jean Kirschtein_ separate from his other notes, what he called his 'scratch paper'. 

He hears a chuckle. “Aren't you going to be late to your 11:30, Professor Jean?"

Jean frowns, his eyes snapping open and looking at the clock, crooked on his wall and mocking him. He realizes belatedly that he's standing a bit too close to Eren, now that Eren's standing, too, and apologizes as he takes a step back. 

“Decide on what you're going to call me, because if you keep on with the Professor Jean stuff then I’m going to have to start calling you Pacific Rim, Hunter."

Eren he has to hold onto the chair for a moment not sure if he wants to laugh or not, his grin contagious. “Can't you decide on one?"

“No can do," Jean says as he grabs his papers for his next class, sticking out his tongue and grabbing his keys. “You were kind enough to use both professor and Jean when I specifically stated to only use one so I don’t sound like the next coming of Dr. Phil, so no. You get two nicknames. Be grateful." 

They're out the door and Jean is locking it again, and he looks at Eren as he pulls out his cane, extending it and making sure it's sturdy. There's a rhythm to it, practiced and true, and Jean can see how Eren isn't facing towards him anymore, probably since they're no longer talking, so it doesn't even seem like he's looking in Jean's general direction. He holds it out, and then looks at where Jean is hesitating. 

“Aren't you gonna go?" Eren asks, the side of his mouth turned up just a bit. 

“Are you going to be okay?" Jean asks, and feels like he's bitten his own tongue off when Eren's expression sours. “Not because of like, the cane, or anything. I like it, it looks neat. Very white. I took a class once." He really needs to stop talking. He sighs, and lets his hand go to the back of his neck, where it's still warm and prickly, and feels stupid, before his mouth keeps on going without his brain's permission, “Sociology elective. It's just that it's probably still raining outside and I’m worried about the puddles."

“Puddles?" Eren asks, completely perplexed.

“Yes," Jean says hotly. “Puddles, Hunter. When we learned about canes and walking with them I remember that that was the extra credit question. That it's difficult to detect puddles with a cane. I mean, they're menaces to _everyone_ , not just you."

Eren's smiling again, and when he says, “ _uh huh_ ,” Jean tries not to feel relieved that he didn't mess things up by being overly protective. Probably. 

“I am going to enjoy your class very much, Professor Jean," Eren says turning around and staring down the hallway, one hand waving and the other holding his cane deftly. “It's cool. My mom always complains that I don't use it enough, anyway."

It’s only when Jean stares at him for a moment, that he notices. “Hey! You _stole_ my _pen_?"

“Told you, reparations! It felt heavy enough. You're late for class. Again." And Eren laughs as he turns down the hall and starts down the stairs. 

A moment later, when Petra comes out of her office right next to his, her arms overflowing with papers and looking just as frazzled as he feels, red hair sticking out at odd angles and a thermos wedged in between the crook of her arm, she stops dead in her tracks when she sees him. It only takes one look at him, before she reads everything on his face. 

“You're about to say some John Keats or Oscar Wilde level bullshit to me right now, Jean, about how we're too young to be this broken, or how the world is laughing at us as we dance madly along because that's who we both _are_ , but, not only is it too early, I don't have time for this. I need to get to another building in two minutes. I love you. I'm sorry, please." 

And with that, Petra quickens her pace and starts sprinting down the hallway. “I’ll buy you a beer tonight!”

“I’m late for my class anyway!" he yells back, as if that's even an _argument_ , but she was right. Even if he was going to go for something a bit more _modern_ , but Keats is never a bad option. It’s this that causes him to let out a string of profanity as he starts his own run down the hallway, in the opposite direction. She knows him too well. Maybe that's why when he does go drinking he prefers Marco, and sometimes Krista, the two of them from the sociology department and polite enough to let Jean at least vocalize his grand delusions one third of the time.

He sighs, and thinks back to his pen spinning in between Eren's fingers, the tapping of the cane as he walked down the hallway. Jean normally would be panicking. Thinking about all the wrong things instead of all the right ones, like how he shouldn't be so focused on one student, or that that pleasant pain in his chest is something that he hasn’t felt in years, or that he's smiling like a fucking dork when he walks into class late. 

But all he thinks is, _well, at least I'm not walking in with Starbucks this time._


End file.
